


Advantage

by FauxGateaux



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgardian justice, Character Study, F/M, Loki-centric, Natasha Romanov-centric, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 18:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8589499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FauxGateaux/pseuds/FauxGateaux
Summary: Set near the end of Avengers Assemble. After Loki has been scraped up off the floor of Stark Tower, the Avengers keep him in Nick Fury's glass cage on the helicarrier while awaiting for transportation to Asgardian justice. During his overnight stay, he is monitored and interrogated by Natasha Romanov. How much does Loki share with the her, and what impact will this have on their futures?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reposting of a story originally written in two parts, in 2012 and 2013 respectively. What it lacks in quality it sure makes up for in naivety.  
> In case it isn't clear, the paragraph changes (line breaks) signify a change in POV, between Natasha Romanov and Loki.

Agent Natasha Romanoff had been many things in her life. Spy. Defector. Hero. Traitor. Momentarily, she still believed, a ballerina. Few of those things had worked out, and over the years she had accumulated a lot of Red in her ledger. Great splodges of Red, enough to stain anyone's personal record and seem impossible to remove, but the Black Widow was going to settle for nothing less than immaculate. Or the closest she could get; she liked to think of it as 'carbon neutral'- settle your debts, clear your name where you can and in the cases when redemption was impossible, make a note of it and balance it out elsewhere. That was the main reason she had joined the Avengers in the first place, the promise of a big amount of whitewash, in the form of saving the world. And saving Clint. She still wasn't sure where she stood with this man; someone who she had known in the past, around the time of her defection to the US. He had aged somewhat more than she had, a benefit and curse of the Soviet's Black Widow Ops program, and she felt each day as a marker of their separation. While they had once been inseparable, acting as the perfect team, she now recognised the look in his eyes- distance. And regret. She knew that he wanted to move on, and she would allow that. Natasha couldn't keep him from happiness, even though she wanted nothing more than to cling to that remnant of her previous lives and the future she wanted.

However, Natasha knew herself too well. She was condemned to age slower than he would, admittedly not anything close to Thor's godly lifespan, but enough to make a difference. She was also, though she would never admit it out loud, unable to have children. Another feature of her Black Widow Ops heritage that she regretted, more than almost any of the other scars her past had left her with. She would never grow old gracefully surrounded by grandchildren and a happy family. However, it did not do for the foremost secret agent and femme fatale of this world to dwell on such… daydreams. Agent Romanoff knew better than to wish for that which she could never have. Was it any wonder she had clicked with Steve so quickly? A man haunted by a love that had long since died.

* * *

Loki had been far more things, in a far longer life. Being the unfavoured Prince of Asgard and simultaneously the denied son of the enemy Frost Giants of Jotunheim were probably at the top of his list though. Missing from the list, however, was 'Ruler of Earth', or perhaps 'Lord Almighty of Midgard.' He hadn't decided on his official title before the Avengers had defeated the Chitauri army that had travelled through the portal to Manhattan, nor had he found himself a throne. He had been given that drink however. As The Hulk changed back into Dr Banner, with the robotic man and the red-white-and-blue man flitting around him, Loki's brother Thor watched over him with grave eyes. How long had Thor been capable of being that serious? Loki half expected him to pick him up and throw him over his shoulder to carry him home, proclaiming that day's 'games' were over and dinner awaiting them. However, Loki knew that there was no way back from this; after falling into the void from the Rainbow Bridge he had expected to simply continue falling in peace. He had not expected the baffling chain of events that would escalate to this extent and end with him slumped on the floor of Stark's tower watched over by a brother he could barely recognise. He could only look forward to Asgardian justice now. Which basically translated as an eternity of pain.

He saw, in the furthest corner of his line of vision, the red-haired woman he had spoken to in his cage as she hovered over Agent Barton, who Loki knew would still be struggling with his slightly splintered mental condition. Barton made his excuses and stumbled away, onto the newly extended balcony to breathe and calm himself. The woman was not visibly disappointed, but Loki could practically feel it oozing out of her; anyone even vaguely perceptive would pick that up, surely. Romanoff picked her way through the rubble to Stark's drinks counter and selected a large bottle of a clear liquid Loki did not recognise. She took a couple of glasses to and sat on the steps close to Loki. She offered a glass to Thor, who shook his head and moved his gaze back to Loki, who scoffed. He didn't need constant supervision- he wasn't going to be going anywhere. He knew when to admit defeat. The woman poured herself a large glass of the clear fluid and drank it in one go. After a moment's hesitation she looked at Loki and proffered him the other glass, which he accepted. After filling both, she tipped hers back smoothly again and refilled. Loki was more cautious and sipped slowly, before understanding the nature of the liquid. Some kind of alcohol, strong, by Midgardian standards at least, and odourless. Thor would not understand its significance and the other Avengers would never notice. They never really noticed anything until it flew out of a portal from space and knocked down a building.

* * *

The Avengers had regrouped and returned to the helicarrier. Stark had been entirely in favour of staying at one of his properties, but they did not know of any cage capable of holding Loki other than the glass-faced prison Fury had constructed for the Hulk. Natasha knew better than to expect him to stay placidly in such a cage if he had any means of escape- she had known KGB punishment and expected the Asgardian justice that awaited Loki to be infinitely worse. Loki had been led into his prison, and the Avengers stood tiredly by it. Every one of them looked the worse for wear, but Dr Banner was barely managing to stay awake.

"Bruce, I think you need to get some rest now" Natasha said as gently as she could. She placed a hand on his arm, covered in the ill-fitting clothes they had taken from Stark's lavish wardrobe after he had de-Hulked. "There are plenty of rooms on board for us all to catch up on sleep, then we should regroup."

The Captain, as he had insisted they called him while he was in uniform, nodded his approval of this plan. He still hadn't removed his mask, and his shield was in place, on his arm, as if he expected another attack at any second. Just before they all turned to leave he interjected in official tones "Who's on first watch?" The group turned in unison to glare at him, as Stark tried his best to sag tiredly and look pitiful. A moment's pause, then, "I'll be on first. I've still got my guns. Everyone else has powered down." She looked over the group. "Or they need the rest more than I do," she said as she focused on Barton, who was still staring at the door to Loki's cage. The rest of the group turned to Natasha with sympathetic and grateful looks.

Thor stepped forward, "I should state that part of Asgardian justice for the crimes my brother has committed today is the wearing of this" he said as he presented a strange metallic object to Natasha. She took it from Thor's large hands and held it up to the light; only a few overhead lamps had remained intact after the helicarrier had been attacked and plummeted towards the earth. As it shone bleakly in the insufficient light she saw Loki move slightly out of the corner of her eye, and she shook the contraption out to better understand its purpose.

"Is this…" Natasha started. The metal object had expanded in her hands and was now a curved shape of-

"His mouth. It is to cover his mouth. Father had the finest metal-workers of Asgard prepare it for the day that the Trickster's lies got to be too much." Thor turned to Loki's cage, but Loki was turned away. "A silver-tongue is of no use when it cannot be used."

Natasha was startled, but regained her composure quickly. Asgardian justice didn't seem too bad after all. "I am perfectly capable of fitting the device myself," she said, lifting her chin. She turned to Captain America; no one was sure when it had happened, but there seemed to be a unanimous feeling that he was In Charge. He definitely wanted to argue with her, but Stark, uncharacteristically supporting someone else by holding up Banner, had already started heading for the exit. Natasha smiled as best she could, and it seemed to do the trick because the Captain left too, followed by Thor, after another painful clap on the shoulder. The door slid shut and left her feeling very alone. With Loki.

* * *

He heard the door slide shut and turned on his heel. A sharp movement, designed to disconcert. He didn't think such petty tactics would work on the woman in front of him, one who had the audacity to turn her own weakness on its head to spite him, but it created an atmosphere. Loki thought that he would quite like to beat her at her own game this time. The woman had not yet looked at him. She was just on the other side of the glass, barely centimetres from its surface, but entirely out of his reach. Though he had a few tricks that he could employ.

She still had not so much as glanced in his direction, instead entirely focused on the metal object in her hands. Loki assumed it was an Asgardian device, Thor would trust no other, even if he had developed a fondness for the primitive Midgardian technology around him. She straightened herself, an automatic movement, fluid through experience, and assumed the posture of a soldier. Loki rolled his shoulders. She moved.

* * *

Natasha had straightened herself, and settled herself in for the process of preparing her nerves in order to apply this thing to Loki. She would have preferred a stiff drink, but a few moments of silence in the semi-darkness should do the trick. So long as he kept his mouth shut.

"Thor gave you no instruction for that device, my dear. I trust you will have the knowledge to apply it." Loki edged closer to the glass, as she twisted to face him. Her turn was not so smooth. Loki splayed a hand on the glass, about chest height. She was annoyed now, but had no snappy reply to prove it. Or to put him off.

"I can imagine it will be quite painful if you do it wrong. Perhaps you could call my brother back, or someone more suitable?" She turned quickly to glare at him, but did not answer. Natasha did not intend on making things easy for him, and she retreated the small distance to the barriers.

Loki could not even smirk. This would be entirely too easy; she, the self-proclaimed femme fatale and heartless wonder was unable to put the device on him. As soon as she failed in her task he could slip out unnoticed and take stock of his position, seeking out his allies and taking a fresh attempt at Midgard. Loki smoothed back his hair with one hand. This was going to be easy. She moved to sit on the floor, with her back against the cage so as to avoid eye contact, so he knelt close to her, on his side of the cage, and sat back-to-back. "It's infinitely preferable, that device, to what fa-Odin used to prescribe. I have had my tongue cut out and my mouth sewn shut innumerable times," Loki told her in neutral tones. She flinched slightly, and Loki couldn't possibly see it, but he knew she was bothered. She settled in the seconds of silence, until he interrupted again. "You cut your hair short."

Her head snapped up at that, touching the glass. Loki smirked- she knew that he shouldn't know about that. She didn't have to know that he had simply seen her file, rather than extracted the information from Barton. Leave her to squirm. She spoke smoothly, in trained tones; "It was getting in the way of my job."

"And the job comes first."

"Naturally."

Loki turned to face the glass again, sitting with his legs loosely crossed. He took off his cape and left it behind him in a messy pile, and hung his long arms over one knee. Agent Romanoff seemed to have composed herself and checked her belt for weapons. Loki could see that she needed to steady her hands, which he assumed was the reason she was now checking her weapon over.

* * *

It has already been established that Natasha Romanoff is many things. One that she usually isn't, however, is scared. Tonight she was scared; Natasha could feel her hands trembling ever so slightly. Not visibly- that would be unprofessional, but she could feel it. And wasn't that always the way. She was going to have to put this thing on a man who had reduced Manhattan to rubble. A possible God. Natasha took her gun apart and checked its mechanisms; the familiar action always soothed her, as she clicked, un-clicked and re-clicked the oiled parts back into place, hoping to find a measure of peace in putting together her deadly weapons. Loki was watching her through the glass; she could see him in her peripheral vision, through her half-reflection in the glass. He seemed genuinely interested in figuring out how her gun worked, which she tried not to think about.

She placed the assembled guns back in her holsters, easily accessed in an emergency. She had plenty of proof of that. She looked over the metal object in her hands again and stretched it out again; curved metal, designed to loop around Loki's head and clasp in the front, at his mouth. No more silver-tongue, no more honey-dripping, mellifluous voice. No manipulation.

Natasha turned back to the cage, ignoring Loki, who was still sitting on the floor with a faintly amused smirk on his face. She looked carefully at the buttons designed to open the door, and how to shut it in a hurry after she got back out. The job comes first.

"I'm going to open the door now. You will move away from the entrance and allow me full access."

Loki smirked more fully. "I do like you when you're taking charge. Most intriguing, my lady."

* * *

Loki moved back from the door, in a show of mocking obedience. He also raised his hands in a very Midgardian show of surrender. "Would you prefer me on my knees too?" She almost blushed. Almost. But of course, with her the job should always come first. Loki wanted to change that. Romanoff moved towards him and started to explain to him, in clipped tones designed to betray no emotion "The device will loop around the back on your head. It fastens in the front. It will not be removed in any circumstances. If anyone sees you attempt to tamper with it in any manner, we will ignore Thor's wishes and kill you here, within an instant."

Loki looked at her, as she stared down at the metal mouth-guard and stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. He reached forward, to tip her chin up, but found himself with her metal weapon in his face. He put his hands back into the surrendering position and took a step back. "My dear, I meant you no harm. I've never meant you any harm." The woman broke her winning streak and was visibly shocked by this. Loki had the advantage.

"You have intended me great harm Loki," she told him in a low voice. Dangerous tones. "You desired to see me killed. Slowly." She stepped forward, holding his gaze. "Intimately. You said that."

Loki knew that he had lost his momentary advantage. He gave a slow, half-smile and dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I had to tell you something to frighten you, lady. You had me in a cage, at the mercy of your team. I was trapped in a corner, with no foreseeable escape."

"As opposed to now," she countered, one eyebrow raised as she re-steadied her aim. "Now, when you are in a cage, in my sights, at point blank range?"

Loki chuckled. Melodious and silky. She twitched her hands slightly, to let him know that she had the weapon. She was supposed to be in control of this situation. Advantage Loki once more.

* * *

Natasha re-holstered her weapons and stepped forward. She was very close to Loki now. He looked down at her hands and she took the opportunity to clear her thoughts. Her hands clasped suddenly over the cold metal, and she looked down in shock. Loki had closed his fingers over hers, on the clasp; "It is a simple enough mechanism I suppose. It closes like this. And if it needs reopening, you would simply press, like so."

Natasha was now legitimately worried. She was losing control of this situation rapidly, but she did not shake her hands away. She told herself that it would be easier if Loki thought that he was in charge.

"I don't mind. I know that I will be wearing it back to Asgard one way or another. It might as well be you, my dear," he told her. He looked up at her face again, and her eyes followed his. He lifted his hands, and she dropped hers back to her sides, the metal mouth-piece held in her right. "You can do it."

Something inside her snapped. Her eyes hardened and she spat out her words; "Of course I can do it; there is no one on this vessel more capable than I am at the practise of holding prisoners. Of punishing the unjust."

Loki smiled again. It still was not a nice smile, but it was softer than the smirks he had previously displayed. "You are indeed. You and I, we are very similar. Who else on board this peculiar craft is capable of such a task?"

Natasha frowned again. "We are not the same."

Loki smashed his hands against the glass, either side of her head. When had she gotten so close to the barrier? He was not smiling anymore, and his eyes were gleaming hysterically. "We are perfect parallels, my dear. One and the same."

* * *

Loki had the upper hand now. He simply had to maintain it, and he would be victorious. She seemed genuinely terrified now, though her experience had taught her to contain it; he was close enough to feel her breath on his face, and she was nigh on hyperventilating. The Black Widow, worried by close proximity opponents? Surely not.

He moved back, and lowered his hands, and as fast as he'd ever seen a Midgardian move, she was back, outside of the door and manoeuvring the control panel to re-seal his chamber. He was surprised that she had done something so openly a sign of defeat as retreat, but he had plenty of tricks in his arsenal to maintain his advantage. She turned back to the glass to face him, damage control he presumed, and she started to speak again; "We are not the same. I am an Avenger, a Midgardian and one of the good guys. You killed eighty people in two days, and that was at the beginning of your rampage."

Loki smiled. "We share a great many similarities, my dear. Far more than you share with your new comrades; your… gentleman archer, for example, is also an assassin. However, he is not nearly so hardened, or so damaged as you. He is hurt, of course; his mind is not strong enough, not like yours would be, and he seems to be mourning the loss of Fury's young female associate."

She did shake her head at that. He took a moment to try to remember her name. He had barely glimpsed her in Barton's mind, even incapacitated he knew how to hide the most important thoughts. The woman sat in her former position, back against the glass. Loki smiled again; his widest and most unpleasant yet.

* * *

Natasha was hurting. She was exhausted, and aching and could do without this kind of abuse. She knew the Clint did not reciprocate her feelings, but to hear this knowledge confirmed, by Loki of all people, was doing her no favours. She had slumped, as much as she ever did, back against the glass and was holding her forehead with her right hand. She closed her eyes momentarily. Loki took his opportunity, and mustered what magic he had left to him in this weakened state; he manifested outside the glass. This trick was difficult, as it required great concentration, and his apparition was not entirely capable. The projection also meant that his true body was left vulnerable, but inside the cage, he reasoned, it should be fine.

Natasha opened her eyes. She had felt a shift in the air, and was not completely surprised by the fact that she could hear him moving slightly next to her, so she showed no visible signs of shock. His magic proved very useful, as he swirled his hands like a true magician, and produced the two small tumblers and bottle they had been drinking from earlier. She accepted it gratefully, but kept the mouth-guard in her left hand. Loki drank smoothly and told her plaintively "I do not say such things to upset you, merely to make you aware." She scoffed slightly. Her guards definitely seemed down now. "If you wish, you may put the device on me now, and I will not object if you take your leave, dear lady. You must be exhausted."

Natasha rolled her eyes at such low attempts at flattery and appeasement. He must know that she would not fall for that. She turned on the floor, shifting towards him, and set her glass down. She stretched the metal between her hands and spoke clearly "I will see how the device fits while you are here," she made no move to glance into the cage, "then I will do the job correctly and place it on the real you. Then I will leave." Loki smiled, a genuine smile this time. She frowned at him, and his smile grew; "You see! We are truly one and the same, you will not fall for my tricks, and I will not be manipulated by you." He sighed softly. "We could have been great allies, even friends, if circumstances had been different."

Natasha was confused. She should have been rightly horrified by what he was saying, but she wasn't. There had not been enough alcohol to kill off her feelings, and instead she did feel a growing connection to Loki. She told herself firmly, that she was not falling for his lies, because it was true. A fool could see that they were similar people, despite the difference in background. She would not admit that to him though.

* * *

Internally, Loki was delirious. He had moved past his plan of escape now, and was revelling in the fact that he seemed to have crushed the Black Widow. He could do anything he wished right now and she would accept defeat. He studied her carefully; he understood why Barton had been flattered by her interests; she truly was beautiful, by Midgardian standards and by his own. Loki fell into thoughtful silence and stared at her profile. She looked up at him, eyes unreadable. Perhaps he was unnerving her. Her eyes roamed his face, quickly, until she reached for her glass and the bottle again. He pondered this development.

She put the glass back down, so he took the momentary chance to reach for her hand; the one holding his pathetic muzzle. He lifted it up, and touched the cool metal to his face and tugged at her other hand. She complied, and took over, reaching around the back of his head with the piece, bringing it around to his mouth. She hesitated, only slightly, then closed it on his face. He looked at her, with wide and open eyes, and she bit her lip. There was a moment's pause, as she tried to guess how it might open again. He dissipated into the air, and she stood up quickly, holding the still closed device in her hand. Loki was in the cage, and conscious. He held his hands up, palms flat, and he faced the glass. "I can open it for you. I know that you hadn't been paying attention," he told her with a small smirk. It was almost a welcome return; at least a smirk was understandable territory. She kept her face still and opened the door again. She stepped inside, and kept herself between the gap and Loki. She held her hand out, towards him, but would not let go of the metal. He reached out too, and tugged her towards him.

* * *

She was on guard in an instant, fearing someone kind of half-baked escape attempt, but instead she found herself falling towards him, as his arms came up around her. She thrashed a bit, adrenaline starting to flow, but his arms held fast, looped just under her ribs. Her face was still buried in the strange fabric of his clothes as she straightened up, her heart pounding in her ears. Her elbows contracted and she put her hands on the guns at her hips, and he released her, backing away. "My apologies. I simply wanted…" He stopped.

She was now scared. Her guns were trained on his face, but her heart was pounding. She licked her lips. His eyes locked on that action. She tilted her head in recognition. "I will concede," she started slowly, taking a small step forward, with her guns still steady, "that we share some similarities. We are not exactly the same, and there is no point in the future that we will ever be exactly the same." She stopped still, at arm's length from Loki, and began to lower her guns. "I understand, that you want to look for people like you." Her guns reached her hips, as she faltered in her speech. Loki was closely scrutinising her face, trying desperately to work out how much of this was calculated, how much was true. She took a breath and put away her weapons. "I can empathise. However," she lifted her head and stepped forward. Very close now, the metal guard in her hand still. "You cannot be allowed to…"

Loki swooped forward and closed his arms around her again, daring to place his arms lower with his hands resting on her hips. He held her close, and pressed his lips to hers. Her face flared up, and her lips felt aflame as his hands pressed harder, his fingertips boring into her hips as he pressed flush against her. She was going mad; her brain felt cracked in two- it might as well have been for all the use it was being, as she could not think straight. Flashes of thoughts and fragments of sentences, _compromised, soft, betraying, Clint, Loki, winner, guard…_

In the end, she stepped away first, but only moved so far. She wanted to be the girl who got swept away in the moment, utterly lost in emotion, but she wasn't. She couldn't ever be that girl; too much training. However, she was still shaken; she could barely breathe, and Loki may as well have been holding her up. His mouth had been peculiarly delicate, almost feminine against her own, and despite the urgency she could feel in his hands on her hips he had not pushed her. The kiss had been safe, especially by her standards, but she still couldn't catch her breath. She leant on him, against his chest. He was taller than she had thought, taller than she was, his head looming over hers. His mouth resting on her forehead, the image of gentlemanly care. She shifted again, and he loosened his arms slightly; she could leave if she wanted. She wanted to, but oh, how she wanted to. Her arms moved, rising, towards her hips and he froze. Her hands paused, her head felt like it was on the fritz. Over-heating. Her hands kept rising, and tangled in his hair, gentle to begin with. She felt Loki smile, her eyes had already slid shut, and she pressed her lips back to his.

* * *

Loki had stopped smirking, replacing it with a genuine smile. Thor clearly wasn't the only one to make the Midgardian women swoon, and she had done so indeed. He had waited for her to come back to him; he seemed monstrous enough in her mind, he was sure. He wasn't even thinking of escape any more, not unless she came with him. She would be a most useful ally, and they were truly very similar. They would be well matched, if she could renege on her choice of 'sides' as she had phrased it. How difficult could that be? He moved his lips against hers again, hoping to keep her here. Hoping to give her reason to stay.

* * *

Natasha could only be caught in the moment for too long- could only enjoy something, and feel happy for a little while until the training kicked in and she took stock of her surroundings. She drew back again, further this time, and broke his hold on her. Loki looked straight into her eyes and she couldn't look away. She was so torn, "We can't be so much the same. It can't be." Loki smiled again, but this time it was painful. Something in her was tearing up- more than when Clint had brushed her off, more than… before.

She had been trained for pain, but this was something else entirely. She closed her eyes momentarily. "This, shouldn't be."

"And yet you want it to be so." Loki dipped his head forward in acquiescence to his own statement. "As do I."

"You know that we could have something truly spectacular; you are most intelligent, most capable and very much like me. I could take you to Asgard, or we could stay here. We could rule absolutely. We could be so high above the others that it is laughable."

Natasha was close to tears now. He was so right. So. Right. She could have everything that she would never achieve as an Avenger. She could be happy. She was never going to have a conventional life- no children, no happy little family in the sleepy suburbs. She'd end up murdered in a ditch halfway through an operation she should never have signed up for. Why shouldn't she take these opportunities? Especially if she could be happy. Natasha had never been so confused before, shaking her head like it was full of treacle. She needed something to clear her thoughts. She looked at him again, where he stood in front of her, seeming to be so full of hope. She looked back down at the metal in her hand. She stepped forward. She slid her hands back around him, twisting around his neck.

He exhaled.

She snapped the metal around his face and shut it across his mouth.

* * *

She was sitting on the floor, with her back against the glass again. She hadn't waited more than a second to see the wounded look in his eyes before she fled to the control panel. She sealed the door, the chamber now theoretically impassable. She knew better though.

"I understand, you know. And in the future, I will not hold it against you." Natasha turned to look at his projection. Loki in the chamber was slumped on the floor, the mouth guard in place. Natasha cleared her throat and tried to speak in a steady voice, "I will try my best to hold nothing against you. I can't promise that the attempted murder of my friends and destruction of my planet won't taint my views a little bit," she stilted in her speech, "but I'll try my best. How long will this 'Asgardian justice' last?"

Loki smiled, "But a moment. I am sure that when Thor, back in his own home, having taken the lady Jane Foster with him this time, will be more lenient than otherwise in his judgement. I may even have to serve exile. However, I will come back." Loki paused and looked at her again. "For you."

Natasha's heart swelled. How had he infiltrated her defences so quickly? She smirked, "I'm not taking the mouth guard off." Loki laughed and Natasha closed her eyes, savouring the sound. He reached for the bottle again, "One last drink then? Then I suppose you had better go." He filled their glasses and they tipped it back smoothly. Natasha got up and headed for the door on trembling legs. He tipped forward in a bow, a slick action that betrayed the years of action as Prince of Asgard. He dissipated slowly, lingering, until the body in the cage woke and stood up. He turned to face her and dipped his head.

"Thank you for your cooperation."

* * *

Steve was walking down the corridor as she opened the door. Natasha had all but forgotten that she had been there on official business. She smiled again at him, doing her best to seem natural and moved out of his way; as he passed her, giving her the expected, but still annoying, clap on the shoulder, she glanced back in the room. Loki had sat carefully in the middle of his cage and was facing away from her. She left.

When she reached her room she sat on her bed, with her head in her hands. How could he have had her giving over control so completely? That went against everything she had ever learned, everything that she was. Her forehead furrowed into lines of confusion. Had her feelings been real? He was the God of Lies after all; maybe this was all just manipulation. It didn't matter anyway, she reasoned with herself. She had to clear that ledger of all the stains. No more Red, then things would be okay. Finally. She stripped off her uniform and headed for the shower in her ensuite. A clear head and a good night's sleep would see her through this. After her shower Natasha returned to her room to retire for the night, only to be faced by his apparition.

"He thinks that I am sleeping. It's safe."

Natasha sank onto her bed. She had thought she could move past this, without distractions. "I knew that by this stage your preconditioning would be taking effect. You must resist this, my dear. Remember your own feelings and do not doubt mine." She looked at his face in confusion and he reached for her. "Do not doubt what I have told you; I said I will be back for you, I will return here. Or I will bring you to Asgard, to me. I'm sure your talents will terrify the natives; only the Lady Sif could ever rival your abilities, and she is far from infallible."

Natasha exhaled. She didn't understand what Loki was telling her, not the specifics of it, but the reassurance that her feelings were indeed her own was all that she needed. He sat at the end of her bed and she immediately turned to him, craving his closeness. She had never needed such reassurance before, but the Black Widow façade had well and truly cracked in front of him. It didn't matter; she had seen him. Truly, the way she expected only Thor had glimpsed before. She leant towards him and he reached out an arm, around her shoulders, under her damp curls.

* * *

The next day they all assembled outside the tower. They were plain clothed, more or less, and they could have been anyone. Anyone in the world, with none of the problems of being famous superheroes. Or villains. Natasha had found something floaty and feminine, from somewhere in her arsenal of clothes. Pretty, and innocent looking, she hoped. Clint hadn't looked twice at her, but she didn't mind anymore. She had learned from eavesdropping, if you could call it that- Thor was incredibly loud, that Agent Hill was recovering reasonably well in a hospital not far from Tony's tower. She felt very distanced from it all. She saw Thor and Loki emerge from behind a tree. She knew that they would be handing over the Tesseract, but she wasn't really paying attention. She was trying to catch Loki's eye, but he was being held steady by his brother. The mouth piece was truly horrifying. He wouldn't meet her eyes. Natasha was crushed. Typical story of use her and leave her. Loki thought nothing of her then. She held up well anyway, her hands clenched, but hidden in the folds of her jacket. At the last moment, he lifted his head and looked straight at her. He could not smile at her, of course, but his eyes conveyed everything. Natasha relaxed, for the moment. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a reposting of a story originally written in two parts, in 2012 and 2013 respectively. What it lacks in quality it sure makes up for in naivety.  
> In case it isn't clear, the paragraph changes (line breaks) signify a change in POV, between Natasha Romanov and Loki.
> 
> This is the unexpected second part to the story, in which Loki and Natash'a story is wrapped up, a bit, and there's hints toward Thor/Steve.

* * *

 

[NATASHA]

The job came first, and with it, plenty of opportunities to whitewash that ledger and write over it. Fresh new lines. Mundane activities.

Not to be some sort of cliché, but Natasha led a spectacular double life. While people like Tony Stark couldn't leave the job behind after clocking out, Natasha had filled that ledger full of quaint little hobbies and mild activities to occupy her down time. Lots of distractions for the time spent at her new home, when she wasn't off working somewhere exotic or grim. Wholesome activities for a pleasant woman. But for the first time, the distractions weren't against the events that had filled her childhood: she didn't toss and turn at night thinking about white walls and bare rooms, ballet lessons or learning how best to balance a crossbow in her tiny child hands. Now it was his face, with that awful mouth guard over it that haunted the darkness behind her eyes and kept her awake well past a sensible bed time. She crawled out of bed and padded across the fresh carpet of her bedroom. Her apartment was pretty small, given that she now resided in New York, for convenience's sake. The carpets were also still quite spongy, the rooms all still smelling fresh. A show house, barely lived in, because of the way she filled up her schedule. Even Clint had raised an eyebrow here and there at just how many missions she was volunteering for.

She shouldn't have gotten out of bed. After all, she had to be up earlier to go to her yoga class, and she didn't have time for a nap afterwards because she was booked in on a gardening for beginners course. She didn't tell anyone, of course. And if Coulson had made some sort of funny remark about Italian cookery lessons then she had completely ignored it. Because she was a busy woman. And definitely not avoiding thinking about anyone. Anything. She sighed, and leaned against the safety rail by her tall bedroom window. She could catch a reflection in the glass, seeing half of her face.

\- - - - -

Her latest job had taken her back to Russia. She always felt weird coming back to Russia. Never call it home. It's just a job. It would be a relatively easy mission: find the target, drink him under the table in one of Moscow's classiest gin joints and take him home. Or to the nearest cheap motel. Then, take the key fob in his inside pocket, and the memory stick with containing sensitive information with it, leave him in the recovery position and get on the next flight home. Same old, same old.

She fluffed her hair in the glass window of the kebab shop round the corner and sighed. A city was a city no matter where it was in the world, and no city could ever have properly clean streets. She kicked a can out of her way with an elegantly heeled shoe and put her game face on. Target's vehicle approaching the building. One chauffeur. No mistakes in her information, but little else could be expected. When was the last time Natasha had mucked up her surveillance and made a mistake in finding her target?

She waited patiently behind her corner for the target to be allowed to enter without seeing her, then sashayed up to the entrance. Never any need for identification. She scoped the bar, and couldn't see anyone that resembled her photo. Her heart leapt, and she turned her head to survey the range of mismatched tables. Shit. She slid into a stool by the bar and signalled with her hand, looking steadily at the bartender. This was suspicious enough anyway, might as well keep an eye on the guy serving the drinks. He slid a glass in front of her and she handed over a handful of coins, turning on her stool to survey the room. And if she hadn't been quite so thoroughly trained, she may well have dropped the glass before even taking a sip.

It was him.

Shiny black hair and sharply tailored suit. Long fingers, holding a glass, smirking at the person across the table from him. The person… her target, was sharing a drink with Loki. Natasha wanted nothing more than to stride across the room and fling him out of his seat to take it herself, but she faltered. What exactly did she think she'd say?

She drained her glass and left it on the table, hailing a taxi the second she stepped out of the door. The job came first. Mission compromised.

\- - - - - 

After getting back, Natasha had stormed into SHIELD HQ. At least fifty faces turned up to stare at her in fear. A good number of faces were still glued to their screens, thank god, which meant that some of the training was getting through to them. They might just keep this thing in the air next time. Coulson was sitting at the conference table at the head of the room, waving a pack of cards at Steve. Since announcing his return from death, or whatever term he had used to refer to the scientific magic weaved by the on-board doctors, Coulson had been seething about the blood on his cards. He had spent some time tracking down replacements, and he'd been building himself up to asking for an autograph for a few weeks now. Unfortunately, Natasha wasn't going to wait.

"You lied to me Phil."

His face dropped. Natasha smirked, inside her own head. She'd decided to go with wounded and hurt, and boy did it show on his face. He stood up and started towards her, a placatory arm outstretched. She moved backwards, out of his reach.

"Asgardian justice, you said. Years and years, decades even, you said. Unlikely to ever come to earth, you said. He was in Moscow, Phil!" Natasha raged. The agents at computers had mostly had the good sense to occupy themselves with mindless tapping: some of the nearest ones had even got up to move somewhere else for a while.

"He was drinking gin with my target, _Phil_."

Coulson smoothed his expression. Tony Stark called it his 'agent face'. "Agent Romanoff, I have at all times relayed to you information that I have believed correct and accurate as per the conditions of your contract. I have been given strict instructions regarding which information to divulge and to whom, and at present we did not feel it wise or necessary to let anyone know that the individual known as Loki was pres-"

"Don't give me the corporate line Phil. I thought I could hope for a bit more from you." Natasha folded her arms just above her waist and angled her head. I am hurt her body told him. Unfortunately, his face was quite capable of replying, and it was telling her I will not fall for your shtick. Natasha dropped her arms again. "He's on earth. With permission? Are we all in terrible, terrible danger? What is going on here?"

* * *

[STEVE ROGERS]

Steve had seen a great number of things in his life, but he still couldn't get used to Natasha Romanoff: she was a terrifying introduction to the progress Women's Lib movements had made. She was competent, and terrifying, and beautiful, and he really did not envy Agent Coulson the position he was in now. At least it meant he wasn't waving those cards in his face now- they made him feel thoroughly uncomfortable. Agent Coulson seemed to be calming down now. He didn't like it when his agents didn't play ball, and Agent Romanoff was usually one of the best at sticking to the field rules. And Agent Coulson? He had an unfortunate tendency to take things very personally.

"At this time, we expect no trouble. Loki has… come to an arrangement with his brother. Apparently the situation changed somewhat on Asgard, and he has proved quite useful to our cause. He is not an ally, not by any means, but at present we are in no danger." Agent Coulson breathed deeply, but still looked pretty nervous. They could all see through that calming-face-mask that he wore.

Agent Romanoff wasn't pleased with this answer. She should have been, in theory, but… Steve could see that she wasn't any happier than Agent Coulson.

Steve hadn't said a word in all of this. He had been suspicious enough the night before Loki was sent back, seeing her face when she left the cell room. He'd seen enough stricken faces in the war to recognise the different types, and Natasha had definitely been more than a little love-lost. She had a hard face to read though, and he'd ignored it at the time. Now, though, storming in like a beautiful red-haired spitfire, he mentally confirmed his suspicions. Lack of modern know-how certainly didn't mean that he was stupid, but everyone around he seemed to assume that he was. And Steve used that leeway to great advantage.

* * *

[NATASHA]

Natasha was back in her apartment. Her little kitchen window-box was in full bloom, with pastel coloured pansies sprouting up towards the pretty non-existent New York sun and lively looking trailing lobelia spilling down the outside wall. It was a shame that Natasha had started gardening in the beginnings of winter. There was a delicious smelling pasta bake in the oven, every ingredient freshly sourced from a market, and the pasta made from scratch. A yoga mat lay deserted in the middle of the sitting room, in front of a television on the wall. Natasha was at the window in her bedroom again though. She spent a lot of time here, staring out over the city. Recovery had been blindingly quick, though you could expect little else from New York. Buildings had sprouted back up and even the older buildings had been given new fronts and fresh coats of paint. Stark tower still stood as the gem of the side of the city though: not that it was called that anymore. The stylised 'A', which Stark maintained had clung on to the outside of the building like some sort of miraculous sign of their importance, but Natasha knew full well had been replaced, marked it out unofficially as 'Avenger Tower'. The beating heart of the nation's security hopes, shining clean energy down on the anonymous, featureless city streets.

Morbid thoughts again.

The doorbell rang, and Natasha was immediately on edge. Few people knew where she lived, and she expected no visitors tonight. She slipped a knife concealed on the underside of one of the bookshelves by the bedroom door into her sleeve and crept silently towards the door. Peering through the peephole she relaxed a little: Steve. Burying the rapidly blossoming disappointment deep inside, she swung the door open and placed the knife on a nearby table.

"What brings you here so late Steve? Not like you to be out late on a school night," Natasha tossed towards the door as she led the way into the lounge area. Steve followed obediently, taking his favoured seat in the corner, facing as much away from the television as he could. He didn't' like TV too much. The pair made idle chit chat for a while, but Natasha couldn't bury the sense that this wasn't a social call. And, as if on cue, exactly ten minutes in, Steve leant forward, elbows braced on knees.

"What are your intended actions towards Loki?"

To say that Natasha was startled was an extreme understatement. She did not betray emotions. The job came first. "I have no intentions, of course. I have no connection to Loki. Obviously I'm pleased that he seems a bit more stable but…" she trailed off. Steve raised an eyebrow, gaze locked on hers.

"We both know that's a lie. Agen... Natasha. I'm not here to push at your boundaries. I know that we've never really sought out each other's company before, and I may not understand this world that I'm in very well, but there are a few things that don't change. One of them is the way your face is when you talk about him. There's only so much you can hide, especially from those who know you."

Natasha wasn't as panicked as she could otherwise have been. Steve was a perceptive guy, she knew that. "I suppose, that, if pressed I might explain a few things. Will you stay for dinner?"

\- - - - - 

Unfortunately the pasta bake had been quite badly burned and they'd had to order in pizza. It was still Italian though, as Steve thoughtfully reminded her.

It had been a long time since she'd had something like this, such a nice evening, so relaxed. She felt quite safe with Steve. She hadn't felt safe for a while. Steve had listened incredibly patiently as Natasha poured out the story of the night before Loki returned to Asgard and how she'd dealt with it, filling her time and taking on extra work. She wouldn't otherwise have talked to anyone, and she certainly didn't feel particularly comfortable even if it was Steve, but it was a bit late for worrying now. She'd shared stories about her gardening mishaps, and how she'd nearly broken one guy's nose when he'd been so patronising in the hardware store, and he'd shared stories too. He'd been so much more open than Natasha had ever seen him be with anyone, telling her about his special team, from his own time, and the linguistic difficulties a few of them had struggled with. And when Steve left, not loitering expectantly at the door like so many other men, she had a genuine smile on her face. She went to bed that night, and while she still didn't sleep well, or for long, it was still a little bit better than before.

\- - - - - 

The next day, Natasha was in a library. She had enrolled herself on another language course at a local college, thinking that it never hurt to get another one in and she knew that she wasn't scheduled for any missions in the near future, unless the apocalypse was pending. There weren't many available, and she had ended up studying Norwegian. Visiting professor apparently. She did not appreciate having to trawl through a college library though; sniggering, uppity students who could see that she was a little older than them were not people she wanted to stand about with while she tried to look for a few of her course books. Of course, in this section, she had to withstand the sight of the few books on Norse mythology. Reminders. On a whim, another weird and pretty masochistic whim, she checked one out. Know thine enemy and all that? Nothing wrong with a bit of research. Definitely. Good for the job. The important job.

She went home to read through some of the language primers, and left the mythology book in her bag. It stayed there all day, and when Steve came round to see her, sensibly carrying a large bag of takeout Chinese in order to avoid her cooking, she didn't mention it to him. They ate, then she taught him how the coffee machine in her little kitchen worked and Steve showed her his sketch pad. She didn't even look at her bag. They watched boring soaps on TV, and booed at the villains and Natasha laughed like she hadn't in her life. Other girls would have been thrilled at such a lovely night in, but it set Natasha on edge a little, making her nervous. It seemed weird that Steve didn't seem to want anything. All the while, Natasha did not think about the book in her bag. After getting up for a drink, and leaving him alone for a second, she came back to find her bag on the seat beside him, and Steve paging through the mythology book. He stopped on a page, and Natasha caught her breath for a second. She crossed the room and leant over, to see a large illustration of a golden helmet, and... blonde hair? It was confusing upside down, but that was... a smooth face, straight features and... lightning? A hammer. Natasha locked eyes with him and he looked as panicked as she felt. Steve was interested in... Thor?

\- - - - - 

Natasha and Steve made a tacit agreement that they wouldn't talk about the mythological men that had kept both of their minds occupied. She had also promised that she would take the book back toady. Fortunately, Steve was still unsuspecting enough of her that he didn't specify when. She stopped off in a coffee shop on the way to the library, far away from the campus' Union Approved café. Neutral open ground. No young people. There was only so angry that she would let her face get in a public place. She opened the book and looked for his name in the index.

 

 

> _'Loki, in Norse mythology, a cunning trickster who is included in the Aesir (a tribe of Gods) who has been represented as a companion to the Gods Odin and Thor. Known as a shape shifter and user of magic, he is well regarded for his ability to lie and persuade, gaining him the nickname of silver tongue. His presence in the Norse courts was treated warily, due to h-'_

"I wouldn't believe everything you read, love."

Natasha stood up from her chair. She was much too far gone to be worried about the public setting. He was _there_.

Across the table.

Drinking coffee.

She tucked the book back into her bag and swung it over her shoulder, intending to make a hasty get away. She hadn't yet decided whether he was real, or a figment of delusion caused by something in the iffy-tasting coffee. Either way, she needed to leave- now. Unfortunately, he stood up too. Seemed pretty real. Looked solid.

"Where are we off to then?"

* * *

[NATASHA]

He followed her home, of course, and he wasn't quiet for a second. Asking her about her life, her daily business, her work, how the city had 'grown back' so well, and everything else one could imagine. Not that she had a second to reply to anything, because as soon as one question came out, something else followed, something utterly trivial and banal, usually about a car, or the sky, or what was that on that mean's head, love? She shut the apartment door, and with it came blessed silence, leaning her forehead against the space under the peephole. When she turned around, he was sprawled on her couch. Of course. She perched on the top of the opposite couch, and just stared openly at him. He was impeccably dressed, of course. Hair a little longer, but his face was so much more relaxed. No lines, no worries. His clothes were a bit rumpled now, from the position he'd worked himself into, but strangely, that was a thoroughly modern suit he was wearing. Just like he had been in Russia.

It all came flooding back, and she lost the pleasant look on her face. His face dropped into one of faint panic.

"You were in Moscow."

She stood up from her perch and began to pace a familiar path in front of the fireplace on the adjacent wall. "You ruined a vital intelligence mission, why? Just happened to fall back down to earth, just happened to find your way to Moscow and _just happened_ to fancy a drink with an important but not so well known government minister, on the night that I just happened to be tailing him? And while you had that drink, in the same place as I was, you didn't think to just wander over and tell me anything?" Natasha burst. "I was sitting on the other side of the room, feet away from you. Not a glance!" The floodgates were well and truly open now. "Anything at all, like _I'm alive_ , or _I'm on earth_ , or even _Hey, look, I figured out how normal human clothing works!_ "

He had the look of someone who had had been chewed out thoroughly before. It didn't stop him from being smarmy though: "I didn't tell you any of those things, because they were quite evident to your own eyes."

Natasha seethed. Visibly.

* * *

[LOKI]

This was not at all going as Loki had planned. After making a promise to come back for her, why was she quite so surprised he was here? Had she expected him to return to Asgard and never come back? His brow furrowed and he deigned to sit up properly. Things were not well here.

He surveyed the room, quickly, taking in as much as he could. He had watched from across the street, of course. Surveillance may be harder when you target lived in some sort of tower like this, but feasible enough for Loki. He had watched her preoccupation with the window in her room, as she stared out. She thought she was staring at nothing, but her instincts were more powerful than most other things in her world, and she had been staring right at his invisible form. And he had stared right back, re-learning the planes of her face and watching her reactions to her own thoughts. Relatively unguarded, at long last. Never completely. The job comes first, she had told him. Quite so.

Unfortunately, unguarded just meant that he could see quite how angry she was. And she was fuming. Beautifully so, but he felt that such a remark would be ill-timed. He moved towards her, and she backed away. Not a flinch, but definitely away from his furthest reach. "My lady, you must recognise the fact that the reason I have not been here, as you played your part in ensuring, is because I have been paying penitence on Asgard. A process cut mercifully short due to my brother's need of my assistance and my own delightful temperament." He smirked. "Is it not some sort of custom here on modern Midgard to have a term of punishment cut short for _good behaviour_?"

She was still seething. Loki began to worry.

* * *

[NATASHA]

She ran a hand through her red curls, and cursed as her fingers got stuck. She'd been doing a lot of finger-running with her hair today. She looked down at floor, then the fireplace. She'd never actually used it, never needed it. Had no idea if it even worked. How she could make it work if she did want it. It didn't matter- he was still there. All the delaying in the world wouldn't make him disappear, as much as she could wish. And oh, how she wished he would disappear. For how long she had waited for him, wanting to see him and to be able to talk to him, to see him without metal on his face and to see the real him not behind a glass screen and uncaged, was irrelevant because she really did not want to talk to him right now.

"You didn't tell me though, did you? Well done and all that on managing to not tear down another city, there is such important history in Moscow after all, but why haven't you-" Natasha cut herself off.

Loki's eyes widened in understanding, and his face smoothed carefully into what she imagined was a carefully practised face of empathy and regret. She wasn't born yesterday. There had been little boys on the Russian streets that could pull exactly the same face. Quite a number of them, all with the same intentions. He moved forward again, and managed to catch her arm. Running his hand down her forearm until her hand was clasped in his, he looked at her. "You thought I would not return for you." She hissed, quietly. Almost silently, but he heard. She hated this. Hated him. _She was not weak._ He could not make her weak.

He knew her well it seemed, though, because his next words cut straight through her: "It is not weakness, to feel. I worried too. It hurt more than Asgardian justice ever could. I wanted to see you, to talk to you. To stand by you," he told her, as he moved closer. He tightened his hand on hers and tipped her face up towards his with the other. "To feel your presence and take your wrath, as I full well expected to."

She hardened her heart, or made an effort towards it. She pulled away to sit on one sofa, and pointed at the other. Loki smirked. It was as imperial as he'd ever seen. "Sit. Explain. Don't take too long."

* * *

[LOKI]

He smiled, genuinely. And he sat- he wouldn't disobey someone like her in such situations.

"I was in Russia on business of my brother's. He has been working for your organisation and apparently certain… wires became entangled somewhere along their line?"

"Crossed wires," she clarified matter-of-factly. Clean lines on her face. Blanked out eyes. Folded hands.

"Yes, well, I was there because he has no concept of the finer details of playing a persona or encouraging looseness of tongue without actually threatening to split someone's head open with a hammer and hoping that whatever comes out of their mouth is the information you want. There has been some sort of misunderstanding, my lady, and I apologise endlessly for it. Neither of us needed to be shown as who we truly were in Russia. It would not have ended well."

Natasha sat back in her chair and Loki watched her face for any glimpse of reaction. Smooth as ever. He smiled again, at how well she matched him. He could make every effort to get used to Midgard, he thought to himself, while staring out of the window at the cityscape. He moved his hands on the armrests of the sofa. Peculiar as the furnishings may be, if she so wished he could get used to them. It was her he would never truly get used to: and perhaps that was for the best.

* * *

[NATASHA]

She had, of course, accepted Loki's story fairly well. It certainly explained Agent Coulson's nervousness when she'd been asking him about the mission. And why Steve had been so available recently, wearing that lost puppy face. Thor was out of town, it had seemed, and Steve had no one to spend time with. After putting two and two together, Steve had begun to develop some sort of bond with Natasha, and sought out her company, knowing she was quite alone as well. She would never be anything but politely disinterested, in order to be utterly discrete of course and not to maintain any kind of 'ice queen' persona, but inside she was totally burning to see what happened between those two.

She had been staring into space, into the blackest part of her unused fireplace. She couldn't possibly just let Loki get away with this. He still could have come to see her between Russia and now; Steve had been visiting for the last couple of days or so. He'd need to employ some spectacularly good behaviour. And she would have to lay down a few ground rules, about her, but also about staying here on Earth. Or Midgard. If he wanted her forgiveness, he was going to have to earn it. She smiled to herself: somehow, she imagined he'd be one of the few people to have it in them to do that. He saw her smile and smiled back, honest and open for once. Maybe this could work.

"It's rather cold in here, love."

Natasha smirked. "It's the New York winters, they're notorious." As if he couldn't take the cold: she'd read his file. She knew most everything of importance about him. Everything else? She planned to enjoy finding out. She leaned back into her chair, as Loki lazily flicked a hand towards the modern fixture on the wall. He managed to create a quite sudden expanse of warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> [From 2012] This was inspired by an interview Tom Hiddleston gave to moviefone{dot}com, (search 'Sharon Knolle' as the author) in which he said "I actually loved the scenes when I'm in the cell with Scarlett [Johansson]. That scene is so brilliantly written because they're kind of similar characters, Black Widow and Loki. They're both strategists, they're both very hard to read, they're underhanded and sneaky and they recognize each other. It's like a kind of chess game. They're both trying to get secrets out of the other one and they play each other immaculately. And [sort of spoiler!] Joss wrote the most beautiful twist, which is Loki gets Black Widow to confess something that she cares about and then turns it on its head and then she turns that on its head."


End file.
